The Public Orations of Demosthenes, volume 1

by Demosthenes

{72} Now I am told that he intends to carry his shamelessness and impudence so far, as to avoid all mention of his own proceedings—his report, his promises, the deception he has practised upon the city—as though his trial were taking place before strangers, instead of before you, who know all the facts; and that he intends to accuse first the Spartans,[n] then the Phocians,[n] and then Hegesippus.[n] {73} That is mere mockery; or rather, it is atrocious shamelessness. For all that he will allege to-day against the Phocians or the Spartans or Hegesippus—their refusal to receive Proxenus, their impiety—let him allege what he will—all these allegations refer, as you know, to actions which were already past when these ambassadors returned to Athens, and which were no obstacle to the preservation of the Phocians—the admission is made by whom? By the defendant Aeschines himself. For what was his report on that occasion? {74} Not that if it had not been for their refusal to receive Proxenus, nor that if it had not been for Hegesippus, nor that if it had not been for such and such things, the Phocians would have been saved. No! he discarded all such qualifications, and stated expressly that before he returned he had persuaded Philip to save the Phocians, to repeople Boeotia, and to arrange matters to suit your convenience; that within two or three days these things would be accomplished facts, and that for this reason the Thebans had set a price upon his head. {75} Refuse then, to hear or to tolerate any mention of what had already been done, either by the Spartans or by the Phocians, before he made his report; and do not let him denounce the rascality of the Phocians. It was not for their virtue that you once saved the Spartans, nor the Euboeans, that accursed people! nor many others; but because the interests of the city demanded their preservation, as they demanded that of the Phocians just now. And what wrong was done either by the Phocians or by the Spartans, or by yourselves, or by any one else in the world after he made those declarations, to prevent the fulfilment of the promises which he then made? Ask him that: for that is what he will {76} not be able to show you. It was within five days—five days and no more—that Aeschines made his lying report, that you believed him, that the Phocians heard of it, surrendered themselves and perished. This, I think, makes it as plain as it can possibly be, that the ruin of the Phocians was the result of organized deceit and trickery, and of nothing else.[n] For so long as Philip was unable to proceed to Phocis on account of the Peace,[n] and was only waiting in readiness to do so, he kept sending for the Spartans, promising to do all that they wished,[n]in order that the Phocians might not win {77} them over to their side by your help. But when he had arrived at Thermopylae, and the Spartans had seen the trap and retired, he now sent Aeschines in advance to deceive you, in order that he might not, owing to your perceiving that he was playing into the hands of the Thebans, find himself once more involved in loss of time and war and delay, through the Phocians defending themselves and your going to their assistance, but might get everything into his power without a struggle; and this is what has in fact happened. Do not, then, let the fact that Philip deceived the Spartans and Phocians as well as yourselves enable Aeschines to escape his punishment for deceiving you. That would not be just.

{78} But if he tells you that, to compensate for the Phocians and Thermopylae and all your other losses, you have retained possession of the Chersonese, do not, in Heaven's name, accept the plea! Do not tolerate the aggravation of all the wrong that you have suffered through his conduct as ambassador, by the reproach which his defence would bring upon the city—the reproach of having sacrificed the existence of your allies, in an underhand attempt to save part of your own possessions! You did not act thus; for when the Peace had already been made, and the Chersonese was no longer in danger, there followed four whole months[n] during which the Phocians remained unharmed; and it was not until after this that the lying statements of Aeschines brought about their ruin by deceiving you. {79} And further, you will find that the Chersonese is in much greater danger now than it was then. For when do you think that we had the greater facilities for punishing Philip for any trespass against the Chersonese?—before he stole any of these advantages from the city, or now? For my part, I think we had far greater facilities then. What, then, does this 'retention of the Chersonese' amount to, when all the fears and the risks which attended one who would have liked to attack it have been removed?

{80} Again, I am told that he will express himself to some such effect as this—that he cannot think why he is accused by Demosthenes, and not by any of the Phocians. It is better that you should hear the true state of the case from me beforehand. Of the exiled Phocians, the best, I believe, and the most respectable, after being driven into banishment and suffering as they have suffered, are content to be quiet, and none of them would consent to incur an enmity which would fall upon himself, on account of the calamities of his people: while those who would do anything for money have no one to give it to them. {81} For assuredly I would never have given any one anything whatever to stand by my side here and cry aloud how cruelly they have suffered. The truth and the deeds that have been done cry aloud of themselves. And as for the Phocian people,[n] they are in so evil and pitiable a plight, that there is no question for them of appearing as accusers at the examination of every individual ambassador in Athens. They are in slavery, in mortal fear of the Thebans and of Philip's mercenaries, whom they are compelled to support, broken up into villages as they are and stripped of their arms. {82} Do not, then, suffer him to urge such a plea. Make him prove to you that the Phocians are not ruined, or that he did not promise that Philip would save them. For the questions upon which the examination of an ambassador turns are these: 'What have you effected? What have you reported? If the report is true, you may be acquitted; if it is false, you must pay the penalty.' How can you plead the non-appearance of the Phocians, when it was you yourself, I fancy, that brought them, so far as it lay in your power, into such a condition that they could neither help their friends nor repel their enemies.

{83} And further, apart from all the shame and the dishonour in which also these proceedings are involved, it is easy to show that in consequence of them the city has been beset with grave dangers as well. Every one of you knows that it was the hostilities which the Phocians were carrying on, and their command of Thermopylae, that rendered us secure against Thebes, and made it impossible that either Philip or the Thebans should ever march into the Peloponese or into Euboea or into Attica. {84} But this guarantee of safety which the city possessed, arising out of the position of Thermopylae and the actual circumstances of the time, you were induced to sacrifice by the deceptions and the lying statements of these ambassadors—a guarantee, I say, fortified by arms, by a continuous campaign, by great cities of allies, and by a wide tract of territory; and you have looked on while it was swept away. Fruitless has your first expedition to Thermopylae become—an expedition made at a cost of more than two hundred talents, if you include the private expenditure of the soldiers—and fruitless your hopes of triumph over Thebes! {85} But of all the wicked services which he has done for Philip, let me tell you of that which is in reality the greatest outrage of all upon Athens and upon you all. It is this—that when Philip had determined from the very first to do for the Thebans all that he has done, Aeschines, by reporting the exact opposite to you, and so displaying to the world your antagonism to Philip's designs, has brought about for you an increase in the enmity between yourselves and the Thebans, and for Philip an increase in their gratitude. How could a man have treated you more outrageously than this?

(To the clerk.) {86} Now take and read the decrees of Diophantus[n] and Callisthenes[n]; (to the jury) for I would have you realize that when you acted as you ought, you were thought worthy to be honoured with public thanksgivings and praises, both at home and abroad; but when once you had been driven astray by these men, you had to bring your children and wives in from the country, and to decree that the sacrifice to Heracles[n] should take place within the walls, though it was a time of peace. And in view of this it is an amazing idea, that you should dismiss unpunished a man who even prevented the gods from receiving their worship from you after the manner of your fathers. (To the clerk.) Read the decree.

[The decree of Diophantus is read.]

This decree, men of Athens, was one which your conduct nobly deserved. (To the clerk.) Now read the next decree.

[The decree of Callisthenes is read.]

{87} This decree you passed in consequence of the action of these men. It was not with such a prospect in view that you made the Peace and the alliance at the outset, or that you were subsequently induced to insert the words which extended them to your posterity. You expected their action to bring you benefits of incredible value. Aye, and besides this, you know how often, after this, you were bewildered by the report that Philip's forces and mercenaries were threatening Porthmus or Megara. You have not then to reflect contentedly that Philip has not yet set foot in Attica. You have rather to consider whether their action has not given him power to do so when he chooses. It is that danger that you must keep before your eyes, and you must execrate and punish the man who is guilty of putting such power into Philip's hands.

{88} Now I am aware that Aeschines will eschew all defence of the actions with which he is charged, and that, in his desire to lead you as far away as possible from the facts, he will enumerate the great blessings which Peace brings to all mankind, and will set against them the evils that follow in the train of war. His whole speech will be a eulogy of peace, and in that will consist his defence. But such an argument actually incriminates the defendant further. If peace, which brings such blessings to all other men, has been the source of such trouble and confusion to us, what explanation can be found, except that they have taken bribes and have cruelly marred a thing by nature so fair? {89} 'What?' he may say, 'have you not to thank the Peace for three hundred ships, with their fittings, and for funds which remain and will remain yours?' In answer to this, you are bound to suppose that, thanks to the Peace, Philip's resources too have become far more ample—aye, and his command of arms, and of territory, and of revenues, which have accrued to him to such large amounts. {90} We, too, have had some increase of revenue. But as for power and alliances, by the establishment of which all men retain their advantages, either for themselves or their masters, ours have been sold by these men—ruined and enfeebled; while Philip's have become more formidable and extensive by far. Thus it is not fair that while Philip has been enabled by their action to extend both his alliances and his revenue, all that would in any case have been ours, as the result of the Peace, should be set off against what they themselves sold to Philip. The former did not come to us in exchange for the latter. Far from it! For had it not been for them, not only should we have had the former, as we have now, but we should have had the latter as well.